SEVEN DEVILS, fili durin

CHAPTER TEN

"Into the fire."

Pain was such a constant agony that paced her every breath...it seemed to be always lurking beneath her skin, making her bones ache, her fingers shake, and forcing her magic to become something so much worse than what it once was. But as the faè sat there with the fading sun baring down upon her, amongst the browning leaves and dirt beneath her, she honestly struggled to remember such a time that her ever-consuming pain had been this powerful, this devastating as she panted for breath with a heart stained with sin.

It hurt, oh how it hurt as her morality continued to stain the ground below her, feeling half some kind of feral animal as wounded snarls and huffs of breath left her bloodied lips in dreadful whimpers. And yet the only small mercy was the fact that her magic seemed to be working hard to stitch her back up with her skin knotting together through invisible strings that glowed red and winding around her shoulders with a mocking embrace, like broken pieces of a mirror climbing amongst each other until it would form something resembling what it once was, cracks and all.

However, the only difficulty that she was facing was the fact the dwarves, most specifically the blonde nuisance who insisted on hovering beside her like a overbearing mother, were all trying to help her in some way shape or form, some with their fingers rummaging into her bag that someone had somehow managed to grab through the chaos for her strange flowers, some begging Gandalf for him to do something with his magic and not listening to his explanations on why he couldn't...and Fili who was still holding onto her, his hand enclosed around hers as he whispered words of comfort that set her teeth on edge.

She wasn't some damsel fashioned out to need saving, and she really didn't appreciate being treated as such as her senses came back to her one by one and ever so slowly, clearing the fog in her mind that had made her drowsy and as limp-limbed as a newborn fawn...and with that, she, albeit gently, slapped the blondes hand away with a certain sharpness in her eyes that had him sighing in relief at that usual fire that held him prisoner in the best way possible, his shoulders no longer burdened with the thought of her morality as she glared at him darkly.

"Would you stop acting as though I'm on my deathbed? I have no plans of dying today, not until I've gotten what I want."

"And what do you want?" Fili asked softly, looking at her from underneath his dark lashes, his gaze flickering around her face as if it was the last time he'd ever see her because he was greedy for the sight of her, because even covered in blood, even when she looked half feral with teeth bared and eyes dark and dangerous, he very much doubted that he'd ever find anything that held half as much power over him with their devastating beauty.

Revenge, to no longer feel the devastating loss of her wings, to touch the stars with her stained fingertips once more, to be free of her nightmares, her grief and pain, to be the girl she once was again, to go home, to see the Moors, to go back in time and trust nothing but herself, to keep Bilbo safe, to keep him completely. The thoughts kept coming, getting louder and stronger as she looked away from him, looking out towards the horizon in an rather rude way to show the abrupt end to the conversation, their moment back in the cave already pushed far into the back of her mind.

"We're one short," Gandalf suddenly spoke over them loudly with his baritone voice slick with fear, causing everyone's head to snap over to him as they silenced, watching as he looked over their heads for their fifteenth companion, only to find nothing, no sign nor hair of the halfling that he'd brought upon this journey, and the old wizard felt fear coil in his gut, not just for halflings fate...but for what would happen if the world was met with the faè's heartbreak at his loss. "Where's Bilbo? Where's our hobbit? Where is our hobbit?!"